Does a welcoming safe haven await us?

By BRUCE BENSONColumnist

Published: Saturday, October 19, 2013 at 4:30 a.m.

Last Modified: Friday, October 18, 2013 at 5:32 p.m.

It was a first for me.

It was cold and foggy last Saturday morning as we drove our boats out to our nets. The fog was thicker than we thought, and soon we were lost. We headed back to where we hoped the harbor was and were grateful to see the welcoming safe haven suddenly appear out of the mist.

The fog was burned off by the sun and every fisherman was able to get the fish out of his nets. But that day was not a first because I was lost in the fog. I have been lost in the fog many times in my 30-odd years of fishing. The sun always saves us eventually.

I dug my first grave that day.

As you may remember, dear reader, my 25-year-old nephew, suffering from schizophrenia, wandered off last winter and froze to death on the very lake I was lost on today. His father, Ryan, and I dug a grave for his ashes at the cemetery last Saturday.

When Ryan said he was digging the final resting spot of his son, I offered to help. It took three hours to dig the small pit, some two feet by two feet but four feet deep.

The ground wasn’t that hard, but to dig a hole that small but deep was difficult. We didn’t have the proper tools. We had to break the dirt loose and then reach in as far as we could with our bare hands and pull the dirt out one handful at a time. And we wanted to do a good job. We didn’t discuss it, but we wanted to make a masterpiece of it.

We couldn’t both work the hole at the same time, so we took turns. I watched as Ryan worked, wondering what was going through his head as he pulled handful after handful from the final resting place of his son.

When it was next my turn, I reached four feet down to pull the last bit of dirt from the bottom of his grave. My entire upper body was immersed in what would be Jared’s final home, and I thought about the fog we were lost in that morning. I remembered the lost look in Jared’s eyes. Was that what life was like for Jared with his disease? Living in a fog that no sun could burn off?

I shared that thought with Ryan.

“Maybe.”

I think everyone has been in a metaphorical fog from time to time. I know I have. We have difficulties. Emotional, financial, sometimes devastating events happen to us. But most times the sun eventually burns these off. Thank God for that.

When my father-in-law died some years ago, the hospice nurse was with him. She was crying as she told us of his passing. “He opened his eyes and said ‘Ahhh … incredible!’ and then closed his eyes and he was gone.”

Curious about his last remarks, and knowing she had been a hospice nurse for years, I asked her if she had witnessed something like that in the past. “More often than not,” she said. “I’ve heard (as last words) ‘wonderful, marvelous, beautiful,’ many times.”

I like to think my father-in-law saw a welcoming safe haven appear suddenly out of the mist.

Christians I know certainly believe in that, but that belief is under attack.

According to PRWeb, an online press release distribution service that gives anyone the chance to get the attention of major media outlets, American biblical scholar Joseph Atwill will be making a presentation today at the Covert Messiah conference in London. His theory? The Romans fabricated Jesus, creating a prophet to quell Jewish uprisings. It was “a propaganda exercise used to pacify the subjects of the Roman Empire.”

“When the Romans had exhausted conventional means of quashing rebellion,” said Atwill, “they switched to psychological warfare. They surmised that the way to stop the spread of zealous Jewish missionary activity was to create a competing belief system. That’s when the ‘peaceful’ Messiah story was invented. Instead of inspiring warfare, this Messiah urged turn-the-other-cheek pacifism and encouraged Jews to ‘give onto Caesar’ and pay their taxes to Rome.”

Atwill wants to convince the world that Jesus never existed, and he claims to have proof. Christians, more than a billion of them, have been hoodwinked, he says.

“Alert citizens need to know the truth about our past,” said Atwill, “so we can understand how and why governments create false histories and false gods. They often do it to obtain a social order that is against the best interests of the common people.”

We know our government is capable of machinations, but Jesus?

I talked with an old headmaster of mine, a devout Christian.

“I read the article too,” he said, “and I don’t care. The lessons of Jesus, whether from Jesus or the Romans who fabricated him, if they did, still resonate. I will continue to believe in him.”

It may be impossible to discover the truth of Jesus. Billions say he exists, many say he doesn’t. Billions say he is the Son of God, many say he isn’t.

Perhaps the sun is not hot enough to burn off a fog made so thick by time. Perhaps the fog permeates all of us, only to be lifted and shared with whoever is with us when we pass with but a single exclamation, “wonderful,” “beautiful,” “marvelous” … or “ahhh … incredible!”

Nobody was with him when he died, but I hope Jared made such an exclamation.

<p>It was a first for me.</p><p>It was cold and foggy last Saturday morning as we drove our boats out to our nets. The fog was thicker than we thought, and soon we were lost. We headed back to where we hoped the harbor was and were grateful to see the welcoming safe haven suddenly appear out of the mist.</p><p>The fog was burned off by the sun and every fisherman was able to get the fish out of his nets. But that day was not a first because I was lost in the fog. I have been lost in the fog many times in my 30-odd years of fishing. The sun always saves us eventually.</p><p>I dug my first grave that day.</p><p>As you may remember, dear reader, my 25-year-old nephew, suffering from schizophrenia, wandered off last winter and froze to death on the very lake I was lost on today. His father, Ryan, and I dug a grave for his ashes at the cemetery last Saturday.</p><p>When Ryan said he was digging the final resting spot of his son, I offered to help. It took three hours to dig the small pit, some two feet by two feet but four feet deep.</p><p>The ground wasn't that hard, but to dig a hole that small but deep was difficult. We didn't have the proper tools. We had to break the dirt loose and then reach in as far as we could with our bare hands and pull the dirt out one handful at a time. And we wanted to do a good job. We didn't discuss it, but we wanted to make a masterpiece of it.</p><p>We couldn't both work the hole at the same time, so we took turns. I watched as Ryan worked, wondering what was going through his head as he pulled handful after handful from the final resting place of his son.</p><p>“I'm glad you're here with me,” he said, answering my unasked question, “or I'd be crying like a baby.”</p><p>When it was next my turn, I reached four feet down to pull the last bit of dirt from the bottom of his grave. My entire upper body was immersed in what would be Jared's final home, and I thought about the fog we were lost in that morning. I remembered the lost look in Jared's eyes. Was that what life was like for Jared with his disease? Living in a fog that no sun could burn off?</p><p>I shared that thought with Ryan.</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>I think everyone has been in a metaphorical fog from time to time. I know I have. We have difficulties. Emotional, financial, sometimes devastating events happen to us. But most times the sun eventually burns these off. Thank God for that.</p><p>When my father-in-law died some years ago, the hospice nurse was with him. She was crying as she told us of his passing. “He opened his eyes and said 'Ahhh … incredible!' and then closed his eyes and he was gone.”</p><p>Curious about his last remarks, and knowing she had been a hospice nurse for years, I asked her if she had witnessed something like that in the past. “More often than not,” she said. “I've heard (as last words) 'wonderful, marvelous, beautiful,' many times.”</p><p>I like to think my father-in-law saw a welcoming safe haven appear suddenly out of the mist.</p><p>Christians I know certainly believe in that, but that belief is under attack.</p><p>According to PRWeb, an online press release distribution service that gives anyone the chance to get the attention of major media outlets, American biblical scholar Joseph Atwill will be making a presentation today at the Covert Messiah conference in London. His theory? The Romans fabricated Jesus, creating a prophet to quell Jewish uprisings. It was “a propaganda exercise used to pacify the subjects of the Roman Empire.”</p><p>“When the Romans had exhausted conventional means of quashing rebellion,” said Atwill, “they switched to psychological warfare. They surmised that the way to stop the spread of zealous Jewish missionary activity was to create a competing belief system. That's when the 'peaceful' Messiah story was invented. Instead of inspiring warfare, this Messiah urged turn-the-other-cheek pacifism and encouraged Jews to 'give onto Caesar' and pay their taxes to Rome.”</p><p>Atwill wants to convince the world that Jesus never existed, and he claims to have proof. Christians, more than a billion of them, have been hoodwinked, he says.</p><p>“Alert citizens need to know the truth about our past,” said Atwill, “so we can understand how and why governments create false histories and false gods. They often do it to obtain a social order that is against the best interests of the common people.”</p><p>We know our government is capable of machinations, but Jesus?</p><p>I talked with an old headmaster of mine, a devout Christian.</p><p>“I read the article too,” he said, “and I don't care. The lessons of Jesus, whether from Jesus or the Romans who fabricated him, if they did, still resonate. I will continue to believe in him.”</p><p>It may be impossible to discover the truth of Jesus. Billions say he exists, many say he doesn't. Billions say he is the Son of God, many say he isn't.</p><p>Perhaps the sun is not hot enough to burn off a fog made so thick by time. Perhaps the fog permeates all of us, only to be lifted and shared with whoever is with us when we pass with but a single exclamation, “wonderful,” “beautiful,” “marvelous” … or “ahhh … incredible!”</p><p>Nobody was with him when he died, but I hope Jared made such an exclamation.</p><p>I dug my first grave today.</p>